Chen Zemian had just taken off the puppy’s down jacket when his phone in his pocket rang.
He pulled out his phone and saw that it was Ye Chen.
This was strange. Although the four of them got along well, there was a clear hierarchy in their relationships.
In Chen Zemian’s view, the ranking was: Lu Zhuonian (boyfriend), Xiao Kesong (good buddy), Ye Chen (the boyfriend’s good brother, good buddy’s good brother).
Brothers rarely contacted each other in daily life, but if something serious happened, they would discuss and bear it together. Close friends, on the other hand, were the kind who ate, drank, and played together every day—yet when trouble arose, they each went their own way.
Among them, Ye Chen and Lu Zhuonian were undoubtedly true brothers—tight and dependable. But Xiao Kesong couldn’t be relied upon; he even depended on Ye Chen and Lu Zhuonian to handle his own affairs.
Xiao Kesong was a typical “cat type” guardian.
He looked very nice, even standing guard at the door if you went to the bathroom in the middle of the night, but if there was any noise, he’d run faster than anyone.
In short, his emotional value score was full—don’t ask about loyalty.
This was already evident back in elementary school.
There was a Chinese language question about connecting words: He () sacrificed himself, () betrayed the organization.
The incorrect answers varied: He (rather) sacrificed himself, (would rather) betrayed the organization; he (sacrificed himself for a while) and (between) betrayed the organization; he (sacrificed himself in vain) and (forgot) to betray the organization…
Xiao Kesong’s answer was unique even among a group of traitors—
He (worried) about sacrificing himself and (between) betraying the organization.
Was there a hint of premeditation in his betrayal? It was similar to Chen Zemian’s own unruly behavior—perhaps that was why the two of them could always play together.
In short, among the four, the one with the most interaction with Chen Zemian—besides Lu Zhuonian—was Xiao Kesong.
No matter how you looked at it, Ye Chen was the one with the least contact.
So why did Ye Chen call him now?
The last time Ye Chen visited alone was when his brother Ye Xi skipped school.
Did his brother skip again?
Chen Zemian didn’t understand why. He placed the puppy on the cushion and raised his hand to answer the phone. “Ye Shao?”
Ye Chen’s voice sounded the same as always. “Chen Zemian, are you busy?”
Chen Zemian replied, “No, I’m just playing with the dog. What’s the matter?”
Ye Chen paused. “…”
“What dog?” he asked after a moment of silence. “Aren’t you allergic?”
Chen Zemian rubbed the dog’s belly. “This dog isn’t allergic.”
Ye Chen hesitated. “I have something to do here. Is it convenient for me to come to you?”
Chen Zemian glanced at the clock. It was nearly ten o’clock at night. “Now?”
Ye Chen’s tone was firm. “Yes.”
Chen Zemian detected a coldness in his tone and unconsciously took it seriously. “What’s wrong? Is something happening?”
Could Kesong have known something about the Xiao family? But the case was still under investigation, not yet concluded. What could he possibly know?
Seeing Ye Chen remain silent for a long moment, Chen Zemian grew impatient. “What’s the matter, Ye Shao? Is there an issue with Kesong or Lu Zhuonian?”
Ye Chen replied quickly, “No, no, it’s me. I want to go out for a drink.”
Chen Zemian asked in confusion, “Huh? Drinking? Looking for me? Lu Zhuonian doesn’t let me drink.”
Ye Chen’s words were sparse. “He doesn’t let you play with the dog.”
Chen Zemian choked on that, puzzled. “What’s wrong with you, Ye Shao? Are you in a bad mood?”
Ye Chen took a deep breath, feeling he was carrying too much for his brother. “Yes, I’m in a bad mood. So, can I go out for a drink?”
Chen Zemian had just brought the dog home and hadn’t packed it away yet. It was midwinter, freezing outside. If Lu Zhuonian found out he was going out for a drink, he’d scold him.
With three unfavorable factors stacking up—his friendship with Ye Chen already tenuous—he saw no chance of winning this battle.
He didn’t say he was going, not because he didn’t want to—but because he simply didn’t.
But Ye Chen and Xiao Kesong had been friends for years, masters of “cat fishing.” They knew how to bait him.
“Zhuonian and Kesong aren’t in the country. There are some things I can only tell you.”
Chen Zemian was hooked instantly. “What is it?”
To protect his brother’s reputation, Ye Chen hesitated before sharing a secret: “I have a friend—she’s the illegitimate daughter of a top wealthy family. She was conceived when the head of the family went on a business trip to another province. She’s been living in another city with her mother. Later, her mother passed away, and she came to Beijing to find her father.”
Chen Zemian, busy playing with the dog, asked, “And then?”
Ye Chen continued, “Let’s talk in person. Later, her best friend found out about her and used her token to replace her. She was recognized as a rich girl and accepted back into the family.”
Chen Zemian was stunned. “Oh my God—real or fake daughter?”
Ye Chen nodded. “That’s about the size of it. Now her best friend has not only taken over her identity but also asked her to work as a maid—an actual servant. There’s a lot more to it, but I can’t explain everything over the phone. Can you come out?”
Chen Zemian was already changing clothes.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Ye Chen pressed his fist to his lips, suppressing a laugh. “I’ll pick you up now.”
Chen Zemian put the phone aside and turned on the speaker. “Don’t hang up yet—wait a moment. I’ll clean up and come back to listen.”
Ye Chen only replied with “OK,” then heard a crackling sound through the headphones.
In a daze, he also caught the faint sound of a toy bell falling to the ground.
Chen Zemian didn’t know whether the puppy would urinate randomly, so he muttered to himself, “I’d better put you in the cage.”
Ye Chen: “…”
Chen Zemian held the dog, turning around twice, reluctant to lock it up all night. Finally, he lifted the puppy, looked at it, and said, “Forget it. I don’t know when I’ll be back. It’s too pitiful to lock you up for so long. Just wait for me at home.”
The puppy licked Chen Zemian’s face affectionately.
A sticky sound of water in the headphones made him push the dog’s head away. “Don’t lick my mouth!”
Ye Chen reminded him, “Chen Zemian, I’m still there.”
Chen Zemian quickly cleaned a room, laid out a mat, and set out a food and water bowl, preparing to lock the dog inside.
This dog was incredibly clingy. Every time Chen Zemian closed the door, it found some way to slip out. He wrestled with it for a long time before finally locking it in.
He was sweating from exhaustion, took off his sweatshirt, changed into a thinner shirt, and sat on the sofa to cool off.
In his ears, he heard the rapid, shallow breathing. Silently, he took off the earphones and connected to Bluetooth in the car. “Are you done?”
Chen Zemian’s voice came through. “When you finish, you can keep going.”
At the same moment, the doorbell rang, and Ye Chen’s voice sounded. “I’m here.”
So quick?!
Chen Zemian opened the door. “You’re too fast.”
Ye Chen grinned. “Well, someone’s in a hurry.”
Chen Zemian picked up his down jacket and headed out. “Then let’s go quickly.”
Ye Chen looked past Chen Zemian, into the house, and asked casually, “I’m thirsty—can you pour me a glass of water?”
Chen Zemian replied, “Sure, come in and sit first. No need to change shoes.”
Ye Chen hesitated. “Your carpet?”
Chen Zemian said, “I rolled it up because I was worried the dog would pee on it.”
Ye Chen: “…”
He stepped into the hall, glancing around inconspicuously. As he entered the living room, he suddenly remembered why he’d left his thesis and test questions unread—he had rushed to Lu Zhuonian’s house during the final week, caught his brother cheating.
A bag lay on the floor, next to a fallen bell collar.
Ye Chen picked up the leather collar, setting it aside without a word.
Chen Zemian brought a cup of warm water, noticing the collar on the ground. “Do you like puppies?”
Ye Chen coughed. “Where’s your dog? Can I see it?”
Chen Zemian opened the door, and a cute little puppy waddled out. It had a strong sense of territory—holding Ye Chen’s leather shoes, biting the shoelaces, and refusing to let go, whining and shaking its head.
Chen Zemian gently kicked its backside. “Don’t bite!”
The puppy bit hard and looked provocatively at Chen Zemian.
Chen Zemian took out the training whip from the bag and knocked on the tiles. “No! You’re not allowed to bite!”
Seeing the whip, the puppy instantly became more obedient. It held Ye Chen’s shoes, pretending to lick them flatteringly, then, when Chen Zemian wasn’t looking, continued nibbling the shoelaces.
Ye Chen: “…”
So, there really was a dog—and a whip.
It was a real puppy.
But how did Fu Tingchao communicate with Chen Zemian? How could Lu Zhuonian misunderstand like this?
He took out his phone to check the time, planning to send a message to Lu Zhuonian asking him not to come back. But he saw a message from Lu Zhuonian: He has already coordinated the route.
Fine, then.
He moved his fingers, typing a reassurance. Don’t worry, things might not be what you think.
Lu Zhuonian responded immediately. Where have you been?
Ye Chen: Your home.
Lu Zhuonian: What is Chen Zemian doing?
Ye Chen glanced at Chen Zemian and replied plainly: The dog licked my shoes, and Chen Zemian whipped the dog.
Lu Zhuonian: “…”
He hesitated, about to send another message, when suddenly a new notification popped up.
Lu Zhuonian: You’re involved.
Ye Chen was speechless. He thought Lu Zhuonian might have lost his temper. He deleted the photo and replied with a string of ellipses.
Chen Zemian, still eager to listen to gossip, forcibly pulled the dog away from Ye Chen’s shoes and locked it back in the house. “Let’s go. Let’s have a drink.”
Ye Chen stood, giving Chen Zemian a look of sympathy.
Chen Zemian tilted his head, confused. “What’s wrong?”
Ye Chen hesitated. “Nothing. Let’s go.”
When they arrived at the private room, Chen Zemian was surprised to find that besides Ye Chen, Zheng Huaiyu, Xue Duo, Liu Yuebo, Yan Luo, and even Shen Qingwan and Cheng Ziyi were there.
He asked, bewildered, “What’s going on? Are you all here to discuss the fake and real daughter?”
Everyone looked at Ye Chen.
He remained calm and gave a brief summary of the situation so far.
Cheng Ziyi asked softly, “Is it the fake daughter who later stayed with the real young master?”
Chen Zemian looked at her in surprise. “You know too?”
Cheng Ziyi coughed lightly. “I heard a little.”
Everyone sighed.
Cheng Ziyi had been an actress before, and she recounted the story vividly. Liu Yuebo and Yan Luo listened carefully.
But Xue Duo, sensing something was off, sent a WeChat message to Ye Chen.
Xue Duo’s expression was puzzled. “Isn’t this ‘My Fair Princess’?”
Ye Chen remained composed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Xue Duo: “…”
Well, to lure Chen Zemian out of his house, Ye Chen had truly gone to great lengths.
As more people arrived, the conversations ranged from fake gossip to real gossip, ultimately circling back to the most watched case in Beijing—Huanyu Media.
Although Cheng Ziyi knew a lot of inside information, most involved the privacy of other artists, so she kept her silence. She simply announced she had terminated her contract with Huanyu and signed with a studio owned by a famous actor.
The actor was Ji Chenzhou. He’d won Best Actor at 35, and it had been ten years since then. He gradually transitioned from the front stage to behind the scenes—investing in movies, variety shows, and other projects, transforming into a capital figure.
He had also been an artist of Huanyu, but later fell out with the company. The lawsuit over contract termination dragged on for three years.
After breaking away, he established his own studio, directly opposing Huanyu. He stole artists, projects, endorsements—anything to undermine the company—and gained a loyal following.
Even a notoriously harsh and venomous director praised him, calling him a rare, untainted star rising against the tide of capital.
But Huanyu had deep roots and strong backing. Ji Chenzhou couldn’t support himself alone. Since parting ways, his resources dwindled, and his focus shifted from entertainment to business.
When Huanyu faltered and faced crises, no one dared to take the hot potato. Ji Chenzhou stepped forward under pressure—securing many resources, snagging scandal-ridden artists, and even signing new ones. His reputation soared, and he became an invisible winner.
Chen Zemian frowned slightly when he heard Ji Chenzhou’s name.
Cheng Ziyi noticed his expression and changed seats with Yan Luo, sitting beside him. She asked softly, “What’s wrong?”
Chen Zemian shook his head. “Nothing.”
The character of Ji Chenzhou was not much discussed in the original story. Chen Zemian remembered two things about him:
First, Ji Chenzhou was very handsome. Despite being over forty, his youthful face remained. Even after winning the Best Actor award, he stayed relatively low-profile, only rising to fame again through a variety show—his fall into water under a penalty.
Second, Ji Chenzhou was tenacious—bold and cautious. He dared to pry open the cooperation with Lu Zhuonian, the male lead, over a piece of land. Lu Zhuonian wanted to develop an AI industry base, but Ji Chenzhou snatched it to build a film and TV city.
This happened years later, long after his career shift.
His transformation from star to businessman was still ongoing, but his daring in taking over Huanyu’s artists showed his extraordinary courage.
And he even stole Lu Zhuonian’s land!
The AI base sounded more promising than the TV city, didn’t it?
Chen Zemian wrinkled his nose, silently deducting 200 points for his initial impression.
With so many people present, time flew by. Before they realized it, it was already late into the night.
Liu Yuebo and Xue Duo were both talkative. Yan Luo was lively in front of acquaintances. Cheng Ziyi and Shen Qingwan, best friends, kept chatting without pause.
The room never cooled—it buzzed with voices.
On Ye Chen’s left sat Liu Yuebo and Xue Duo; on his right, Cheng Ziyi and Shen Qingwan. Their chatter wove into a three-dimensional tapestry of noise, filling his ears.
He suddenly realized Xiao Kesong was unusually quiet.
Zheng Huaiyu, too, was silent—mainly because he was busy reviewing tomorrow’s meeting outline. Whispering Studio employed 182 staff, and Chen Zemian managed Zheng Huaiyu alone; the other 181 employees reported directly to him.
If Whispering Studio lost Chen Zemian, it would lose creativity. But if it lost Zheng Huaiyu, the whole pillar might collapse.
Chen Zemian felt a pang of sympathy for Zheng Huaiyu, working overtime while out having fun. He decided not to bother him.
“It’s already five in the morning,” Chen Zemian checked his watch. “I’m heading home if I don’t have anything else.”
But the room suddenly grew silent.
Liu Yuebo, remembering his mission, urged, “Don’t go home.”
Chen Zemian: “???”
Xue Duo echoed, “Stay a little longer.”
He picked up his down jacket. “No, I’m sleepy.”
Liu Yuebo lunged at him like a tiger, pressing down his jacket. “No, no, no! If you’re bored, do something else.”
Just then, Cheng Ziyi stood abruptly, resolute. “I’ll sing a song for you.”
Chen Zemian: “?????????”
Cheng Ziyi grabbed the microphone from the coffee table. “I participated in a music variety show. It’s a good opportunity to practice. Would you like to listen?”
Liu Yuebo looked at her as if she were a hero and quickly asked the waiter to adjust the equipment. “Okay, okay—among us, Chen Zemian is the best at appreciating music.”
Chen Zemian looked puzzled. “Me?”
“Please, sit down,” Liu Yuebo pulled him to a seat, palms open, gesturing politely. “Please start.”
It was even stranger.
But it didn’t matter. As long as Chen Zemian didn’t go home to play with the dog.
Cheng Ziyi sang a song—only four or five minutes long.
During those minutes, Liu Yuebo and Xue Duo frantically discussed countermeasures on their phones.
Liu Yuebo suggested, “If it really doesn’t work, let’s pool some money.”
Xue Duo, puzzled, sent a question mark. “?”
Liu Yuebo explained, “My brother asked him to take care of me before. The monthly fee was 600,000. Today, I’ll keep him until Mr. Lu comes back. How much do you think is enough for more than ten hours?”
Xue Duo silently forwarded a screenshot of the chat to Ye Chen.
After Cheng Ziyi finished singing, they agreed to pay Chen Zemian 100,000 yuan per hour for watching him sleep.
Chen Zemian negotiated the price, found a corner, and fell asleep.
Everyone: “…”
Liu Yuebo asked softly, “So we’re paying to watch him sleep, right?”
Xue Duo was pragmatic. “Master Lu should be able to cover that.”
Liu Yuebo looked puzzled. “Why does Master Lu insist we stay with him?”
Xue Duo guessed, “Did they have a quarrel? Master Lu’s worried Chen Zemian will run away.”
Ye Chen regretted deleting the dog’s photo. Now, no one could go home. They had to stay here, testifying that Chen Zemian hadn’t gone home to play with the dog.
When Chen Zemian woke up, it was already noon. To his surprise, Ye Chen and the others hadn’t left yet.
He sensed something was wrong—his thick skin aside. He supported himself with his hands, sat up, and said, “No, I’ve broken some heavenly rules. You’re looking at me like I’m a criminal.”
Xue Duo glanced at his phone, then paid the waiting fee. “I don’t know either, but you’ll find out soon.”
Chen Zemian: “???”
Everyone in the room filed out, leaving only him.
Before closing the door, Xue Duo shot him a “good luck” look.
Suddenly, the door swung open again.
Lu Zhuonian stepped inside, backlit.
Chen Zemian’s eyes widened. “Lu Zhuonian?! Why are you back today?”
Lu Zhuonian said nothing. His quiet voice was impossible to read—was he happy or angry? “Is the dog fun?”
Chen Zemian saw him, thought everyone had suddenly called him out last night for a surprise meeting, and couldn’t help but smile.
“Don’t be so playful,” Lu Zhuonian said sternly, removing his leather gloves and tossing them on the coffee table. “I asked you—are the dogs fun?”
Chen Zemian suddenly remembered—the dog was at home. “Damn, I need to feed it.”
Lu Zhuonian unbuckled his belt, folded it, and held it in his palm, then used it to lift Chen Zemian’s chin. “He’ll find food himself.”
“No food,” Chen Zemian pushed the belt away. “I locked it in the room before I left.”
Lu Zhuonian pulled Chen Zemian’s face closer. “Don’t think about the dog. Look up—look at me.”
Chen Zemian was forced to raise his head.
Lu Zhuonian’s eyes were deep, dark, and swirling with uncertain light. “Tell me—who are you?”
Chen Zemian’s breath caught. “Chen Zemian.”
Lu Zhuonian’s gaze changed instantly. His palm touched Chen Zemian’s cheek, slowly tracing back. “No.”
Chen Zemian looked at him. “I’m your boyfriend.”
Lu Zhuonian lightly grabbed Chen Zemian’s hair, forcing him to lift his head higher. “Boyfriend.”
Chen Zemian’s neck arched fragilely, his Adam’s apple protruding.
The belt in Lu Zhuonian’s hand slowly moved upward—along Chen Zemian’s chest, closer to his neck—until it finally stopped at his Adam’s apple.
A subtle pressure pressed down.
Chen Zemian’s breathing grew rapid, his heartbeat pounding louder.
The rough cowhide belt was just against his neck, but the sensation was overwhelming—like being controlled, bound.
It was… a collar.
An unfastened, loosely buckled collar.
Lu Zhuonian lowered his eyelids, staring into Chen Zemian’s eyes—bright as stars. “Answer my question. Who are you?”
Chen Zemian’s eyelashes fluttered violently. “I’m… a puppy.”
*****
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Author: LazyHermitGal
A Lazy Hermit Gal wondering in the void and falling into the translation abyss.
